


Something For A Rainy Day

by telperion_15



Series: Lord Of The Manor [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Aristocracy, Class Differences, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Master/Servant, Plot What Plot, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Stephen get a little wet while out riding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something For A Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for madscribbles, for the prompt 'rode hard and put away wet'.

  
The sound of thundering hoofbeats heralded the return of Tom and Stephen from their afternoon ride, and seconds later they arrived in the stable-yard, mounts kicking up enough mud and water to make Robert, one of the stable lads, jump backwards out of the way.  
  
Both horses and riders were in a rather sorry state, spattered with mud and soaking wet, but none of them appeared to be particularly bothered by their predicament. On the contrary, Stephen was openly laughing as he slid from Plato’s back, and while Tom wasn’t quite as merry, he was nonetheless smiling as he also dismounted, patting Jessie on the neck as his did so.  
  
The look exchanged by the two horses plainly indicated that they thought their masters crazy.  
  
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tom said. “If I’d realised it was going to rain quite so heavily I wouldn’t have taken us so far across the estate.”  
  
“Nonsense, Tom,” Stephen replied. “It was my idea. And besides, we wouldn’t have had any peace at all from Lord Ramsay if we hadn’t inspected the boundary.” Lord Ramsay was the owner of the neighbouring estate, and had become convinced that Hart cattle were finding their way on to his land and eating his grass. Needless to say, Tom and Stephen had been able to find no evidence of such an intrusion, and Stephen was already planning a polite but stern letter to Ramsay, reporting their findings, or rather the lack thereof.  
  
But of course, the section of the boundary under dispute was at the most distant point of the Hart estate from the house, and although the day had started out fine, heavy clouds had rolled in while they were checking the fences, and the heavens had opened before they were more than a quarter of the way into their return journey. The horses had been as eager as their riders to get out of the weather after that, but for all their speediness had not been able to prevent any of them from getting a thorough soaking.  
  
“You should return to the house, sir,” said Tom, conscious of Robert still lingering nearby, listening to their every word. “You’ll catch a cold standing around in those wet things.”  
  
“So will you, Tom.”  
  
“I’ll be fine, sir. My quarters are only just across the yard. And besides, I must see to the horses. They’re just as wet as we are.”  
  
“I can do that, Tom,” Robert piped up. “Master’s right, you don’t want to end up sickening for something either.”  
  
Tom dithered for a few seconds, and then, as a droplet of cold water slithered from his hair and made its way down the back of his neck, he came to a decision.  
  
“Very well, Robert. Thank you. I’ll leave Plato and Jessie in your hands. But make sure you get Matthew to help you. They both need a thorough going over after being out in this weather.”  
  
“Right you are, sir,” replied Robert. He gathered up the reins of the two horses and led them away into the stable block, calling for Matthew as he did so.  
  
“I haven’t seen your quarters, Tom,” Stephen whispered suddenly in Tom’s ear, as Robert disappeared.  
  
Tom started slightly. “Oh, er, they’re not really suitable for someone like you, sir.”  
  
“Less of the ‘sir’, if you please,” Stephen reminded him.  
  
“Sorry,” Tom replied. “But I really don’t think you’d be comfortable up there, Stephen. You should return to the house, and get out of your wet clothes.”  
  
“I don’t have to return to the house to get out of my clothes,” Stephen said, his voice taking on a tone low and meaningful. “I should very much like to see where you live, Tom.”  
  
“If you wish,” said Tom, giving in. He led the way across the stable-yard towards a small stone building that stood opposite the main block, trying to remember if he had tidied up at all before starting work that morning. He rather suspected he hadn’t.  
  
“I think this building used to be a proper workshop,” he explained as they passed through the door. “But now, as you can see, its use is rather different now.”  
  
The interior of building was rather dim and gloomy, but it was nonetheless possible to make out that most of the ground floor was filled up with junk and bric-a-brac of one kind or another, although everything did appear to be meticulously organised.  
  
“The curse of the stable master, I’m afraid,” Tom said sheepishly. “I can never bring myself to throw anything away in case it might be useful one day.”  
  
“I can see that,” Stephen replied, laughing a little. He looked around pointedly. “So where do you live, Tom?”  
  
“This way.” They edged past piles of hoarded bits and pieces until they reached a steep little staircase in the corner of the room. It was so steep as to really be nothing more than a glorified ladder, but Stephen seemed to have no problems scrambling up it after Tom.  
  
There was a short silence, and then Tom said awkwardly, “It’s not much, but its mine. And it’s quiet, with no people working below now. Not like the lads, who sleep above the coach-house, and have to share with three under-gardeners and the coachman.”  
  
“You don’t have to defend it to me, Tom,” Stephen told him. “I think it’s lovely.” He gazed around the room, almost wistfully. “Large rooms and fine furnishings do not always make for the cosiest of homes, you know.”  
  
There was another brief silence, and then Tom cleared his throat. “Well, I even have a fireplace up here, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just see about lighting a fire to warm us up.”  
  
It wasn’t long before the flames were flickering away merrily in the fireplace, and Tom rose from his knees, satisfied that they’d soon be able to start drying out their clothes.  
  
He turned to find Stephen looking around the room again, and automatically tried to put himself in place of the other man, and view his quarters through Stephen’s eyes.  
  
The room was fairly long, stretching the length of the old workshop below, but also fairly narrow. Having previously been a loft or attic meant that although the floor was quite extensive, the ceiling sloped inwards on two sides, leaving few places where a grown man could stand upright. There was a single chair and rough wooden table close to the fire, and at the other end of the room stood Tom’s bed, a dilapidated clothes chest, and a washstand that was really nothing more than a few lengths of wood hammered together with a tarnished metal basin standing on top of it.  
  
As he’d said to Stephen, it wasn’t much. But it _was_ home. And happily, not as messy as he’d thought it might be.  
  
Stephen seemed to sense Tom’s observation, and after a few more seconds he turned away from his contemplation of Tom’s accommodations, and smiled at Tom instead.  
  
“Now, Tom, I believe we were going to get out of our wet things?”  
  
“I think that would be a good idea,” Tom acknowledged, starting to feel less jittery about Stephen’s unexpected presence here.  
  
However, he was unsurprised when, instead of matching his actions to his words, Stephen instead moved towards him, sliding a hand round the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
Stephen’s mouth was warm, a sharp contrast to the cool clamminess of his skin, and the fingers that were tangling in the ends of Tom’s wet hair. Tom settled his hands on Stephen shoulders, feeling how sodden the other man’s coat was before he pushed it down Stephen’s arms, the wet fabric catching on the shirt underneath and making the process far more difficult that he wanted it to be. Stephen broke the kiss, huffing a laugh, and stirred himself to help, pulling at the coat roughly until it gave up its hold on him and was able to be draped over the back of the nearby chair.  
  
Tom took the opportunity to drink in the sight he was presented with. Stephen’s coat had been well made, of fine, expensive fabric, but unfortunately that hadn’t improved its water-resistant qualities, and the linen shirt underneath it was almost as wet as the outer garment had been, clinging to Stephen’s body in ways that Tom found rather attractive.  
  
“You too, Tom,” Stephen said, the sparkle in his eyes betraying that he’d caught Tom staring.  
  
Tom’s coat was sturdier than Stephen’s, made for the hard wear it was subjected to in Tom’s daily life. But such was the ferocity of the earlier rainstorm that the coat hadn’t quite stood up to the test, and Tom could feel that his own rough-spun shirt was damp and heavy across his shoulders. He shrugged out of the coat, and then decided that he might as well remove the shirt too. In for a penny, in for a pound, as Hettie always said.  
  
And now it was Stephen’s turn to stare, his gaze roaming across Tom’s naked torso, and finally settling on Tom’s face. “You’re beautiful, Tom,” he murmured.  
  
Tom flushed, as he always did when Stephen said such things to him. He still wasn’t sure how to accept the extravagant compliments, but he knew that arguing the point would only make Stephen more determined to have him believe it.  
  
“You seem to be a little overdressed, sir,” he said, not acknowledging the compliment in words, but knowing that Stephen had noted its effects. “I believe we should rectify that.”  
  
He stepped forward and caught at the damp folds of Stephen’s shirt, pulling it from his breeches and then drawing it up over his head until from the waist up Stephen was as naked as Tom.  
  
Stephen’s skin glowed golden in the firelight, and Tom caught his breath as the desire to kiss Stephen hit him low in his belly. He gave into it, plundering Stephen’s mouth as they clung together, the warmth from the fire wrapping itself around them, and making the rain nothing more than a memory.  
  
“Tom, please, I need you,” Stephen whispered against his mouth, causing another curl of desire to slowly unfurl inside Tom.  
  
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak suddenly, and Stephen manoeuvred them back towards the bed, kissing Tom again.  
  
The rest of their clothes were shed quickly and gracelessly, and then Tom found himself lying on his back on top of the blankets, his body covered by Stephen’s as Stephen smiled down at him.  
  
“A bed, Tom. This is a first for us.”  
  
Tom, who had started to harden as soon as Stephen had first kissed him, felt a stab of arousal strong enough to make him gasp. Until now they’d been forced to conduct their liaisons in fields or hay-barns, anywhere where they could snatch some precious time away from the prying eyes of others. He’d never thought that he’d have Stephen in his bed, and the reality of it was almost enough to undo him.  
  
He only wished that their location could have been pleasanter. Stephen was used to the finer things in life, after all.  
  
But Stephen seemed to read his thoughts. “This is all I want, Tom,” he said quietly. “Nothing more.”  
  
He kissed Tom lightly on the lips, and then paused, drawing out the anticipation, a wicked glint suddenly in his eyes. “You feel so good, Tom,” he said, and then pushed himself sensuously against him.  
  
Tom felt their hard lengths sliding against each other, and he gasped, reaching out blindly with the intention of catching hold of Stephen, needing to elicit more of that delicious friction.  
  
But Stephen was too quick for him, his hands encircling Tom’s wrists and raising his arms above his head, pinning them there. The backs of Tom’s hands were pressed almost painfully against the rough wooden bed-frame, but Tom didn’t care. He knew he could probably break Stephen’s hold if he so desired – Stephen might have all the leverage, but Tom had superior strength on his side – but he also knew he didn’t want to. He realised he was perfectly happy to let Stephen dictate the terms of this encounter, his pleading moan and the upward judder of his hips notwithstanding.  
  
“Tom, oh, Tom…” Stephen murmured, thrusting against him again. Tom pushed up to meet him, and had the satisfaction of seeing Stephen’s expression slacken for a moment.  
  
“Please, Stephen,” he whispered. “Don’t tease.”  
  
Stephen emitted a sound that could only be called a growl, and then they were both moving, their bodies coming together in frantic, undulating movements, and their skin now damp with sweat instead of rain.  
  
The grip on Tom’s wrists was now so tight that he was no longer sure he could break it. He was utterly at Stephen’s mercy, and that thought proved to be the one that tipped him over the edge. Warmth pooled between them as he spilled himself, pleasure coursing through his veins, and Stephen thrust into the slickness a few more times before he too reached his climax, breathing out something that could have been Tom’s name as he went momentarily rigid, and then collapsed, his weight sprawled fully across Tom.  
  
There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the crackle-pop of the fire, and the sound of soft panting breaths. Then Tom gently pulled his wrists from Stephen’s now lax grasp, shook his hands a few times to work some of the feeling back into the them, and put his arms around Stephen.  
  
Stephen’s face was pressed into the side of Tom’s neck, and as he held Stephen to him, he felt a soft kiss being pressed to the skin there. He shuddered minutely at the sensations that evoked, and then sighed.  
  
“You’ll need to make sure that no one is around when you leave,” he said reluctantly. “If anyone sees you emerging from my quarters, suspicions will be aroused.”  
  
Stephen stirred, but didn’t raise his head, and thus his voice was muffled when he replied. “Not yet, Tom,” he said, his lips moving against Tom’s neck again. “I don’t need to leave yet.”  
  
Tom tightened his hold on Stephen, and wished that they could simply pull a blanket over themselves and stay like this forever. “No,” he agreed. “Not just yet.”


End file.
